


The words she knows (the tune she hums)

by EponineTheStrange (gallifreyandglowclouds)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyandglowclouds/pseuds/EponineTheStrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an anonymous prompt on the PR kinkmeme: Mako likes to watch; Raleigh is more than happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The words she knows (the tune she hums)

 

The Drift Hangover in the wake of their destruction of the Breach is nothing short of insane. Well, Mako assumes that it’s pretty crazy, because Raleigh has been perturbed for the past week while they cuddle on his bunk bed, which is stupidly small, and he keeps muttering things in his sleep like ‘it was never this bad before’, and it makes her feel bad. 

He usually apologises about it in the morning. “It’s not bad,” he tells her one day, after a particularly physical session in the Kwoon that ends with her on top of him, one of her legs wedged between his, and their foreheads resting together and their lips a hair away from touching (she thinks about kissing him a lot, or she has been in the wake of everything that’s happened, and she wonders if that might snap the tension between the two of them, which could be both good and bad). “It’s just – it’s just weird, Mako. This was never the way it happened with Yancy.” 

“Right,” she says, and then rolls off of him, and they lie on the floor, shoulder to shoulder staring at the ceiling and talking about totally inane, neutral things like the food in the cafeteria and Newton’s newest tattoo (of Slattern, no less) until Herc pokes his head in and gives them a look at that simultaneously conveys how badly he needs them both to go do something for him and how utterly confused he is at their current position. 

The major problem (or not-problem, which is entirely a matter of perspective) with the Drift Hangover is how much inside of Raleigh’s head she still is and vice versa, because it’s like having no privacy whatsoever in the best possible way. She gets snippets of his dreams and he hers, and one morning when Newton just asks her what she dreamt about because that’s standard breakfast-time conversation for him, she starts telling him about how it involved a strange mash-up of funny cat videos that she made Raleigh sit through when he was in the throes of some horrible memory from Alaska, and then Raleigh comes and sits down with them and starts finishing her sentences about Grumpy Cat. 

“You two,” Newton says, wildly gesticulating between the two of them, “are just too weird for seven thirty a.m.” 

Raleigh smiles and digs in to his scrambled eggs. So they do dream the same. 

Where it gets to be a bigger problem is when Raleigh – well, Raleigh indulges in some activities, occasionally in the shower and occasionally in his bedroom (but of course, only when she’s not there). When people who don’t know them ask them if they’re going out, she sort of wants to make a crack about how the only girlfriend he has right now is his left hand (but granted, the two of them do spend a ridiculous amount of time together, and if they were two other people they would probably be dating, she realises). It gets to be a problem for her because she can feel little snatches – just one to two second little bursts of feeling, and whatever Raleigh’s got going on in his head, and it’s usually the two of them doing things that make her blush and clench her fists, and by the end she’s a little shaky and out of breath. 

One Saturday she’s sitting on her bed looking over the Tokyo II schematics, and then realises that he’s fucking at it again, and now – well, now is different, because the one thing that she can see or feel is him, and if he’s going to be writhing in pleasure while he’s fantasising about her, she’d damn well like to see it. 

She strides across the hall with her mouth pressed into a thin line, as if she was going over to give him trouble about stealing one of her biscuits that she had to go all the way to Kowloon to get, which happens on a fairly regular basis, and not that she’s going over to watch him get off, which has yet to happen ever and is the furthest thing from normal that there’s ever been. 

Raleigh’s an idiot and he never locks his door, so Mako just marches right in to his room. He’s lying back on some pillows that he’s got propped up against the wall, with his eyes half-lidded and his hand curled around the head of his - his dick, because that’s what he’d call it and this whole situation is too much for Mako to work her head around proper terminology. 

The door slams shut, which makes Raleigh snap his head forward and gasp. 

“Shit,” he says, desperately snatching at various things in an attempt to cover, none of which are his clothing or his blanket, which would probably do the trick. “Mako, I’m –“ 

“No,” she says, sounding totally confident and put together even though her heart is pounding in her throat. “Don’t stop.”

“What?” 

“Raleigh,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper, “When you do this I can feel it, and I can see what’s in your mind.” 

He looks absolutely mortified. 

“So,” Mako continues, taking a deep breath, “now I’d like to see you.” 

“Oh.” That was clearly not how he expected that sentence to finish, based on the expression on his face. 

“I mean, only if that’d be okay –“ 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning back with an easy smile on his face, “that’d be fine. If you want.” 

He reaches over to a bottle of something on the side of the bed, and squirts some on his hand. Then, he leans back again, wraps his hand around his dick again, and starts slowly, very very slowly, sliding it up and down. His head drops back and he groans, low and guttural, and now Mako can see pretty crystal clear what he’s imagining and she closes her eyes and lets herself revel in how badly he wants to basically end one of their sessions in the Kwoon with her straddling him, and his hands slipping under the flimsy tank top that she always wears when they spar – 

But that’s not what she’s here for. When she opens her eyes again, he’s writhing just a little, and his hand is moving faster. For a moment, she’s mesmerised, and then it occurs to Mako that she could possibly go and bring his fantasies to life a little bit. 

She hops on the bed and presses herself into his side, one of her legs hooked over his. He winces, and his hand stills. 

“Did I say you could stop?” she hisses, a bit sharper than she intended to.

He shakes his head, and then keeps pumping his hand up and down. Perhaps at the beginning of the whole thing, he had some kind of technique (not that Mako would know anything about this), but now his hand moves indiscriminately and jerkily. His mouth hangs open, head tilted back and eyes screwed shut. 

She wonders, perhaps, if she can use her own thoughts and flood Raleigh’s brain through their connection. So she thinks, and thinks hard, and then one image that pops into her head is one where she’s backed up against the wall in the shower, and he’s kneeled down in front of her, tongue on her clit. The thought makes her shudder, and Raleigh opens his eyes and looks over at her, and she can tell from his blown out pupils and the sweat that makes his hair stick to his forehead that he is absolutely wrecked. 

“Mako,” he gasps, “you too?” 

She nods, and then presses light kisses down his neck. He keens, an unearthly sound that rattles down her spine, and then comes all over himself.

Raleigh’s body, previously quivering with arousal and electricity, collapses on to the bed, and attempts to move his arm and clean himself off or something, but only succeeds in waving in the general direction of his legs. 

“Let me take care of that,” Mako mutters, and slips off the bed. He’s got some tissues on his dresser, so she brings the box back and cleans him up. Then, she slips back in to bed beside him, though she wonders whether she’s going to have to slip back to her room for a few minutes to recover from what just transpired. 

As if he read her mind (and, in fairness, he probably kind of did) he mutters, “Give me like, fifteen minutes and I’ll take care of you.” 

“You don’t have to – “ she starts. 

“I will,” he mutters, and then falls asleep. 

(He does.) 

-fin 


End file.
